I’m utterly pro a more open openness with plenty of recreation.
(Humanist discourse is indirect diversion.) 

I’m also out on the deep end in my makeup where consensus drifts in and out like influenza. (Harder to stay immune now.) There’s a leftist glow in radical argumentation like an avalanche that fucks over ideas from the machine age. 
Word of you travels, calibrated by the ruckus-like paean spoken (rather than speaking) in a large-scale outreach and dialectic — spoken because we both wrote it down to shun sickness, sick of welfare, 

licensed before comeuppance, soul dad —  

Make that a shortstop outreach where all the jazz wears off.  
We’ll sink together deliberately mismatched, true needing yet ignited around the tips by deep compatibility, a healthful state, when we purge  

sea brine and air cutting up the time outside, driving it to a crawl, into a room where we’ll talk.